


What Dreams May Come

by potted_planted



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potted_planted/pseuds/potted_planted
Summary: How Spock finds something that Jim had never realized that he needed.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 240





	What Dreams May Come

They were living the cliche away-mission-gone-bad, Jim Kirk reflected, as he tried, for the fourth time, to kindle a flame in the mouth of a cave with the meager wood they had been able to gather on a godforsaken planet whose name he refused to remember. Nothing life-threatening, just ion storms with perfect timing at a point where they had already decided that this planet had nothing particularly interesting to offer to the Federation and were about to beam back to the ship. 

The fifth time did the trick. The flame eagerly consumed the dry wood, helped along by Jim’s persistent blowing (not too much, not too little), and would help keep them warm during the long night ahead. Spock was out foraging, and Jim was glad about the few moments of privacy. He valued his first officer, he really did, but their personal relationship remained distant. Moreover, Spock and Uhura had broken up three weeks ago and although their split had been amicable, it did not help in finding a non-threatening conversational topic. 

Mostly, Jim did not look forward to spending the night out in the open with Spock. They had brought only basic survival packs with thermal blankets. Sleeping in close proximity to each other was basically on the top 10 list of surviving in adversarial weather during away missions. Besides, he had been aware of the fact that Spock had been suppressing shivers for the past hour already. However, cuddling with anyone, and least of all his first officer, was not high on Jim’s personal list of Favourite Things to Pass Time With. Skin to skin contact was no problem per se. In fact, Jim usually had enthusiastic sex with almost anyone willing to reciprocate, so at least that part of the rumours about him was true. To him, cuddling was far more intimate. He could remember each of the hugs his mother had given him and refused to reflect on the fact that this was only possible because there had been so few. He had hated Starfleet’s basic survival courses in cold places and he had never been able to sleep well in them, pushed up against the bodies of the other cadets. But then again, if there was something he was good at then it was in doing what needed to be done.

It was getting dark as the rustling of the leaves on the slope leading up to the mouth of the cave indicated that Spock was making his way back to the camp. He appeared soon enough, carrying what seemed to be plants and roots as well as a canteen of water. 

"I have found some edible plants and water for us. Do you require sustenance at this point?“

"Not really, Mr. Spock. You know what? We’ve been up for 16 hours, let’s try and sleep and hope that the ion storms will have cleared up by morning.“

Spock looked undecided. Jim sighed. He tugged his thermal blanket out of his pack, mentioning for Spock to do the same, then spread the blanket beside the fire. 

"We can have the plants as broth for breakfast.“

Spock seemed reluctant to move closer. Jim took some comfort from the fact that Spock probably was even less enthusiastic about their inevitable sleeping arrangements than he was himself.

"Mr. Spock. In the interest of conserving body heat I would suggest that we get as closely together as possible, then use the second blanket to cover ourselves.“

God, was there any stiffer way to phrase this? But it did the trick, Spock brought his thermal blanket over and they started arranging themselves on the blanket already on the ground. In the interest of not waking up his First with a boner pressing into his back, Jim opted for the little spoon position. They shuffled awkwardly, moving close together and tugging one of the thermal blanket over their bodies. Jim felt Spock’s arm press uncomfortably against his back, so he reached back and placed it over himself, where it remained like dead weight, then wiggled around a bit to find a better position, and finally closed his eyes.

Sleep eluded him for a long time. 

He felt restless, not even because of the proximity of his first officer, which was a surprise in itself, but because their situation evoked memories that Jim tried to keep buried. He simply could not shake off the feeling that any minute now, soldiers would make themselves heard, pushing through the greenery below, staking them out. Jim was glad that his ordeal on Tarsus IV had left him with little more than the tendency to forgo meals in stressful situations and a heightened paranoia on away missions, however, in situations like these it did have its inconveniences. He tried to adjust his position once again to be able to keep a better eye on the surroundings, but stilled when Spock’s clear and crisp voice cut through the night. 

"Would you like me to help you sleep?“

Well, that was unexpected. And Jim, alreadly miserable and never the one to overthink consequences, decided to answer with the truth.

"Yeah, why not?“

With one smooth gesture, Spock tugged up Jim’s uniform shirt and the shirt underneath and placed his hand onto Jim’s naked stomach, fingers spread.

_SafeProtectComfortSleep_

Jim did not even have time to be surprised, he dropped to sleep instantaneously. 

When he woke up the next morning, he was alone on his blanket. He felt wonderfully refreshed and, after stretching languidly, got up to a cup of tea and some broth that Spock had already prepared on the rekindled fire. When Spock silently handed him the cup and a plate, Jim nodded his thanks, and they had breakfast by the fire, looking into the morning fog that had descended over the valley below. 

What should have been awkward… simply wasn’t. His first officer looked, for all intents and purposes, like a cat that had gotten into the cream. And Jim, in that moment, decided that if Spock did not have a problem then Jim did not have a problem. After sharing their meager breakfast, they performed their chores without having to talk much. Jim felt surprisingly at ease with his first officer and wondered, for the first time, whether the epic friendship that the other Spock had talked about might actually be achievable in this universe.

After a few more hours that they spend on cataloguing more of the local fauna and flora, their communicators first spat out static, then Scotty’s voice, and only a few minutes later they and all of their belongings were beamed back onto the Enterprise. 

And that could have been the end of it.

******* 

The second time was after an away mission that had gone bad. Jim’s broken bones and torn ligaments were quickly mended by Bones, but a redshird had not been so lucky, and Jim had just finished composing the condolence letter to the family in his quarters when the buzzer sounded and, after Jim’s shouted command, admitted one Commander Spock. Jim was surprised, he had been expecting Bones, since his escape from Sickbay had not been entirely condoned. 

Jim was at the moment quite content with feeling miserable in private. He was pretty lackadasical about many aspects of command, on the principle that a sense of camaraderie and family was much more important for isolated deep space missions than a perfectly maintained chain of command. However, there was stuff that simply was not shared, and most of it pertained to Jim’s fears, insecurities and, right now, a general feeling of defeat and lingering pain from his injuries.

"No chess for me tonight, Spock, I’m pretty beat.“

"I was not inquiring about chess. May I come in?“

Jim almost told him not to, then sighed.

"By all means. Sit down.“

Spock did so on the free chair opposite the desk Jim was working on. Over the last months, Jim had become pretty good at deciphering the minuscule hints and motions that gave away Spock’s emotions. Right now, Jim would have bet his money on nervousness. But Spock, just like Jim, had never been the one to shy away from the uncomfortable and he cut straight to the point. 

"Based on your previous behavioural patterns I hypothesize that the death of crewman Thomas has affected you deeply. Would you like me to help you sleep?“

Jim froze. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. His first impulse was to insist that everything was fine, that he did not require anything. And perhaps he indeed did not. But there was the lingering memory of a different soul imprinted on him that gave him the certainty that the one person to trust on this ship was Spock. So he simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Again, there was nothing awkward in how they removed their shoes and uniform, curled up together on Jim’s bunk bed with Spock fitting neatly to his back, there was nothing awkward in how Spock carefully maneuvered his hand into the gap between Jim‘s shirt and briefs and spread his fingers on bare skin. Again, Jim’s mind was filled with a feeling of

_WarmthHealProtectSleep_

and he was out like a light.

******* 

It became a habit.

Two or three times per week they played chess and, afterwards, slept together in one bed, Spock’s thin and elegant fingers pressed onto Jim’s naked stomach. Jim‘s sleeping habits were better than they had ever been, and he was feeling almost ridiculously content most of the time. He did not seem to be alone in this. Various crewmembers had been speaking about Spock almost fondly, insisting that spending so much time on a human ship had mellowed him to a point where he had not driven anyone in the science department to tears in weeks. Sometimes, they woke up together, sometimes, Spock had already left when Jim came awake. Their arrangement, while never discussed, felt so natural that Jim actively refused to even think about it. He did not want to spook a good thing. 

There was one person, however, he could not conceal it from.

"Why are you so healthy? I cannot even pester you about your sleeping habits, the results of your physical are abnormally good! What have you been doing to yourself?“

So Jim told him. 

"Jim, you codependent little shit! In my professional opinion you have found a non-destructive way of coping, which for you is surprising! Wonders will never cease! Privately it is going take me at least a bottle of Saurian brandy to forget what you’ve just told me and I expect to be compensated for the expense! And now get out of my Sickbay!“

******* 

Away missions were overrated, Jim reflected, when he was finally able to retire to the quarters that had been set aside for the Enterprise crew. While his presence during the negotiations was not strictly required, he had been informed by the Federation diplomats that it could be construed as a demonstration of strength. As a result, he and his first officer had been treated to ten solid hours of negotiations – with no end in sight. So Jim had imbibed a bit more alcohol during the formal evening dinner than strictly necessary, and he was feeling pleasantly buzzed as he made his way up the stairs to his room. Footsteps followed his on the steps. He turned around to see Spock close behind, then waited for his first officer to catch up. 

"Another day of this and I’ll die of boredom.“

"Surely this is metaphorical.“

Spock’s voice sounded huskier than usual. When Jim looked into Spock’s eyes, the dark of his pupils seemed to stretch from rim to rim. Spock looked almost… hungry. Jim shivered involuntarily.

"What has gotten into you, Spock?“

"Chocolate has been known to elicit responses in Vulcans that mimic the effect of alcohol in humans. I have had dessert.“

Jim snorted.

"So you’re basically drunk. So am I, by the way. Come on, then, let’s sleep this off.“

Spock followed him into his room, but by then their sleeping arrangements had become so habitual that Jim did not even turn around when Spock closed the door behind himself. Jim stepped out of his dress uniform and moved towards the bed, only then realizing that Spock had not moved from his place beside the door. 

"I would be amenable to doing something else today.“

Jim’s thoughts ground to a halt and a traitorous warm feeling spread though his body. Before his mind could supply the many reasons why this might not be such a good idea, Spock had covered the remaining distance between them and extended a hand, three fingers folded back, two fingers beckoning Jim to touch. When he did, a spark went straight to his groin. Jim groaned. 

"Do not tease, Spock.“

Spock did not answer but quickly and methodically got out of his own dress uniform, then tugged Jim towards and onto the bed, where they landed in a tangle of limbs. One hand tucked down Jim‘s briefs with clever fingers, the other hand came to rest on Jim’s psi points, then Spock stilled. Waiting for permission, Jim realized. He wiggled impatiently, pinned under Spock’s weight, then arched into Spock’s touch. 

That was all that was needed. Floodgates seemed to open in Jim’s mind. He felt his arousal and Spock’s as one. Blindly, Jim groped for Spock’s erection, then felt Spock’s fingers close around his. Their mouths came together, teeth clacking. There was nothing gentle in their desperate need for contact, every sensation caught in a feedback loop between their minds until it became almost unbearable, every second catapulting them towards a climax that, when it came, plowed into their joined minds with the force of a freight train. It was messy, it was rushed and it was perfect, perfect, perfect.

It was entirely possible, Jim realized, as he was basking in the afterglow, that this experience had ruined him for anything else. The physical contact in combination with the mind meld had turned this into the most mind-blowing – if brief – sex that Jim had ever enjoyed, and that was definitely saying something. He was just reflecting on the possible consequences of this realization when he sensed a feeling of smug contentment at the back of his mind that most certainly was not his own. 

Jim did not only have a reputation as a little slut, although this aspect of his personality had been severely underexpressed these last months, he also had a reputation of having a brilliant mind. In this case, he was embarassed to realize how long it had taken him to connect the dots.

"Spock. Is this what you’ve been planning all along?“

"It is within the realm of possibilities, Jim.“

"You’ve been reeling me with kindness in like a fish on the line!“ 

"I will congratulate you on your deductive powers.“

More amusement trickled over Jim’s synapses like warm honey. His back arched involuntarily. He moved further into Spock’s embrace, bringing as much skin into contact with Spock’s skin as possible, and, for a moment, was deeply afraid. Whatever this was, wherever it would take him, he did not want this to end. But in his experience, everything came with consequences and he knew, with startling clarity, that these had the power to break him. Then arms thightened around him and 

_ComfortSafeProtectionLove_

he slept.

******* 

_Years later._

"Jim! Get married already! I do not want to hear more of this, when will you ever learn? And get me another bottle of Saurian brandy, you little lovesick bastard! And do not, I repeat, do not ever speak to me of this again!“


End file.
